


I Win

by Spiral_Rush



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bets/Dares, Biting, Bored and Horny, Choking, Dildos, Hair-pulling, Jealousy, M/M, Masochism, Oral Sex as a Game, Rough Sex, Violent Thoughts, consensual drunk sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiral_Rush/pseuds/Spiral_Rush
Summary: A bottle of whiskey, a box of sex toys, and a little game make a boring Saturday night a lot more interesting.***The alcohol was really hitting him now. He was thinking X-rated thoughts about Frank again. It didn't mean anything. Hell, sometimes when he was drunk Billy craved Cheez Whiz. That didn't mean helikedthat crap.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Billy Russo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	I Win

It was Saturday night on a three-day weekend and Billy was mind-numbingly bored. This time, he'd been one of the unlucky few who got stuck staying in the barracks on watch. Alone on duty, the hours had crawled by without even any drunken shouting to liven things up. Everyone else may as well have been dead. He wasn't even allowed to read.

When his shift finally, finally ended, he wasn't tired. So he swung by his room to pick up the bottle of whiskey he kept for emergency bored-out-of-his-mind use and headed over to visit Frank, who was in the same sorry boat he was in for the holiday.

At the door to Frank's room, he heard the disorganized twanging of his friend attempting to play the guitar. Inside, Frank was sitting on the bed with his stringed victim in his lap.

"Someday," Billy said as he approached, "you will actually learn a chord. But today is not that day."

Frank strummed louder. "Did you take time out of your hair care routine just to come over here and insult me?"

"Not just to insult you." Billy showed him the whiskey.

Frank reached for the bottle. "That's more like it."

Billy held it up and away from Frank's grabby hands. "And what do you have to contribute to this evening's festivities?"

Frank had beer, as he usually did. They each drained a few cans, passing the whiskey between them while exchanging the latest gossip. There wasn't anything juicy, just the same idiots doing the same idiot things, usually while drunk. But what could you expect living on a base in the middle of nowhere? Billy was feeling a nice relaxed buzz. He may not be able to go out but at least he had Frank to keep him company. If Billy had to pick someone to be bored with, it would be him.

"So what kind of mayhem's been going on tonight?" Frank asked.

"Absolutely _nothing_." Billy leaned back in the chair by Frank's desk, stretching his legs. "We could be out getting into some mayhem ourselves but we're stuck here."

"Poor Billy. People aren't entertaining him 24/7. Next time, I'll pull a fire alarm just for you."

Billy kicked the chair back, balancing on the rear legs for a moment. It made a satisfying thud when it came down again. "Not everyone's happy sitting in their room like a monk meditating and failing to master a musical instrument."

Frank held the guitar out to Billy. "You think it's so easy, you try it."

Billy stood up and took the guitar, turning to the side and angling it across his hips so that the neck looked like a giant dick. "You gotta hold it like a rock star," he said, thrusting his hips a few times. Frank laughed.

He handed the guitar back and Frank set it against the wall. Billy noticed the corner of a box sticking out from under the bed. It hadn't been there the last time he was here. "Somebody send you something?" he asked, gesturing to it.

Frank looked in the direction he'd pointed. "Oh, Pearson gave that to me before he left." The previous week, Pearson had gone to take a post as a drill instructor. 

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"You haven't opened it yet?"

"I forgot about it." Frank shrugged. 

"There could be alcohol in there," Billy scolded. 

"We should be so lucky."

"Seriously, he gave you a box and didn't tell you what it was?"

"He gave me a speech about entrusting it to me as the one who came before him entrusted it to him, blah blah blah." Frank mimed a mouth opening and closing with his hand.

Billy looked at him. " _That's_ weird. And suspicious. You didn't ask what's in it?"

Frank held out his arms in an even bigger shrug. "He was drunk. And you know Pearson. He likes messing with people. Anyway, it's probably some random crap he just didn't want to take with him."

"All right. We gotta open this box." Billy finished his beer can and crumpled it.

"Right now?"

" _Yes_." In response to Frank's unenthusiastic look, Billy added, "C'mon. This is the only remotely interesting thing that's happened to me all night. It'll be like Christmas."

"All right. All right." Frank heaved himself up off the bed with a sigh.

"Maybe it's a massive stash of old porn that's been handed down from like the '60s," Billy said as Frank dragged the box out.

"Don't complain to me if it's laundry detergent." Frank sat cross-legged on the floor and ripped off the tape. The box was ordinary cardboard, with a dent in one corner and markings from having gone through the mail. Frank was probably right that there wasn't anything interesting in it. But a man could dream, couldn't he?

Billy took a swig of whiskey while Frank pulled the flaps up and looked inside. "Well?" he said.

Frank paused, peering into the mysterious depths. Finally, he said, "It's not porn."

Billy stood up, wobbling only slightly. "What is it?"

Frank leaned back so he could see. The box was full of dildos.

"I was not expecting _this_ ," Frank said.

These weren't just ordinary dildos either. It was a collection of the most brightly colored, biggest dildos Billy had ever seen. He slapped his thighs and laughed. "Frankie, you hit the jackpot, man."

"Why the hell did he give this to me?"

"Maybe he thought you needed some good dick." 

Frank shoved Billy, who did not fall. He just sat very quickly down on the floor. The important thing was he didn't spill any whiskey.

"Hey," Billy pointed to a hot pink dildo. "Remember that one from Ramirez's promotion party?"

Frank pulled the dildo out. It was a good ten inches long. "Oh, yeah. Mitchell stuck it in the front of his pants and then sucked it." 

Auto-fellatio was a hell of a party trick. "I am just not that flexible," Billy said, shaking his head.

Frank raised his brows. "So you've tried to do it?"

"What guy hasn't?"

Frank chuckled but didn't admit anything. The memory of Mitchell's feat turned into imagining Frank trying to suck himself off and failing, which made Billy smile to himself. That turned into imagining Frank succeeding, which made Billy uncomfortably warm. He shook his head, clearing the image away. The alcohol was really hitting him now. He was thinking X-rated thoughts about Frank again. It didn't mean anything. Hell, sometimes when he was drunk Billy craved Cheez Whiz. That didn't mean he _liked_ that crap.

He handed the whiskey to Frank, who took a swig. If Billy had been sober, he wouldn't even have paid attention to Frank drinking, but now the sight of Frank's lips enclosing the bottle, his throat moving as he swallowed, was distracting. Billy got up, turning his back, and got another beer. If he was having unwelcome thoughts, he'd just have to keep drinking until he couldn't think anymore.

Billy sat back down on the floor and the two of them dug through the box. Frank said, "I had no idea there was a collection of these here. I mean, who bought them?"

"Well, the dildo fairy brings them," Billy said.

"The dildo fairy." 

"Yep."

"And how does that work?"

"Every time a Marine does something stupid with his dick, the dildo fairy comes and adds to the box."

Frank laughed so hard he fell back against the side of the bed. "The entire building would be full of these if that was true," he said, wiping the corner of his eye.

They spent a few minutes elaborating details of that image: dildos in a rainbow of colors stacked floor to ceiling, tumbling out when you opened a door. Billy hadn't laughed like this in a long time. He pulled out a shiny red and purple marbled dildo. It was the size of his forearm and had a disturbingly sharp-ridged head. "Yowza," he said.

Frank whistled. "Who could even get that in anywhere?"

"I'm sure somebody has tried." He shivered involuntarily. "Just thinking about it makes my ass hurt."

Frank got another dildo out, a glittery neon green one that was less ludicrously big, complete with balls. He positioned it in front of his crotch and wiggled it. Billy reached over and patted the head. His hand was just a few inches from Frank's own dick. All he had to do was move just a little down...

Smirking, he said in a breathy voice, "Oh, Frankie, you're _so_ big."

Frank rubbed the dildo against Billy's hand while letting out an over-the-top fake moan. The ridiculous sound cracked Billy up. It also made him wonder what Frank sounded like having sex. He squeezed the fake cock and Frank swatted his hand away.

Brief disappointment flashed through Billy, followed by confusion and irritation. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? They were just goofing around with sex toys because they had literally nothing else to do. It wasn't like Frank was turning him down for sex. He didn't even _want_ to have sex with Frank. And Frank certainly didn't want to have sex with him. Billy blamed the alcohol. Drunk brains came up with all kinds of bizarre shit.

He grabbed a dildo from the box, this one orange with white swirls like a creamsicle, and struck it against the green dildo in challenge, starting a duel. Neither of them knew how to fence properly so they swung them at each other like clubs. Billy had longer reach so he was scoring more hits. Then Frank grunted and tackled him. 

They landed on the floor with a thud, all pretense of a sword fight gone. Several times, they rolled each other over, alternating who was on top, until Frank's back struck the desk. A book tumbled down and glanced off Frank's head. He dropped his dildo and Billy knocked it away under the bed.

"You lose," Billy announced, straddling Frank.

"Says who?"

"You lose your weapon, you lose," Billy said. Instead of giving up, Frank blew a raspberry at him and tried to snatch Billy's. Billy held the dildo up over his head. "Now you're cheating."

"We didn't agree on any rules," Frank said. He twisted and bucked Billy off, who maneuvered away before getting pinned. But Frank got a grip on the dildo. The two of them struggled over it, Frank slowly inching it toward himself. Billy got his mouth on it and bit down with a tug.

Frank let go. "You want it that much, you can have it," he said.

Billy thwacked Frank upside the head with it. "That's for cheating."

"I was not cheating.” Frank rubbed his head. “I just wasn't giving up because you said so."

"Now you're trying to justify cheating."

"You're the one who put it in your mouth. _That's_ cheating."

"We didn't agree on any rules," Billy reminded him.

"I was winning so you had to resort to sucking the thing to throw me off."

" _I_ was winning until you tackled me."

"You were not." 

"And I didn't suck it. I bit it. What kind of sex do you have that you can't tell the difference?"

"It was cheating," Frank insisted.

Billy had one of those ideas that seem hilarious through a haze of booze. "All right. We'll settle this. And we'll have some rules." He held the dildo up. "Whoever swallows this all the way wins."

He expected Frank to laugh in his face and say no. But Frank grinned mischievously. "You're on. And since it's your idea, you go first."

It took Billy a second to comprehend that Frank had agreed. A tiny voice urged him to refuse, to scoff at Frank for taking an obvious joke seriously. But Billy had never been in the habit of listening to that voice of caution, especially not when he was drunk. He nodded once. "Okay."

A wide smile cracked Frank's face. "Okay."

And just like that, the deal was struck. Looking at the dildo's length, Billy realized this was _not_ his best idea. He blamed the alcohol. But he wasn't backing down. It was just a long piece of silicone. He could manage.

Since he agreed to this idiocy (hell, he suggested this idiocy), it was best to get it over with. He gripped the dildo with both hands and positioned it in front of his face. "Here goes," he said.

"Russo, Russo, Russo," Frank chanted, pumping his fist.

"Shut the fuck up," Billy said.

Frank clapped and shouted, "Russ-Ooooo!" like an excited sports announcer.

Billy rolled his eyes and got down to business.

At first, things went fine. The molded plastic taste was not pleasant but it was tolerable. Then the tip touched the back of his throat and he gagged. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he tried to relax. Billy kept his eyes toward the floor. But he knew Frank was watching him. He wondered how ridiculous he looked with an orange fake dick sticking out of his mouth. (He wondered if Frank thought it was hot at all or just stupid.)

The action of swallowing helped a bit and he eased it further along, fighting off the instinct that he was going to choke. This would be so much better if it were Frank's dick. At least then _someone_ would be enjoying it. He imagined the blissed-out expression on Frank's face, the sounds Frank would make. The picture distracted Billy and he tensed, gagging again.

"You okay there?" Frank sounded amused.

Billy waved Frank off. He willed himself to relax again.

"You need a little push, Bill?"

The idea of Frank putting hands on Billy's head right now pissed him off and renewed his determination not to give up. He was almost there. Blinking to keep his eyes from watering, he gave one last effort and forced the damn thing down. Finally, his lips touched the base. He held it in place for a couple of seconds, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment, still not wanting to look at Frank. 

"Attaboy." Frank applauded.

Billy immediately pulled the dildo out and lobbed it at Frank. It bounced off his upper arm and, despite Frank trying to catch it, landed in his lap. Billy's eyes were drawn to Frank's crotch and he saw a bulge in the fabric. So Frank _was_ a little turned on at least. That mollified Billy a bit.

He'd seen Frank's dick before, even got a couple of glimpses half-mast. Billy always ignored it. When he was drunk, he tried not to wonder how big it got or think that even partially erect, it looked promising.

Billy grabbed another beer. He deserved a reward for his work. "Your turn, Frankie boy."

Frank grinned. "Anything you can do, I can do better."

"That's very junior high school of you," Billy said. "C'mon. Let's see what you got."

Frank held the dildo against his fly and bent down, flexing his back. For a second, Billy thought he might manage sucking himself off and got way too excited. But Frank stopped halfway there. Sitting back up and laughing, he said, "The look on your face, Bill." He made an exaggerated shocked expression, mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

"Very funny," Billy said. "This is why you're known for your sense of humor." For a moment, he worried that this was Frank's way of backing out. But without further comment, Frank opened his mouth wide and stuck the dildo in.

It _was_ funny especially since the dildo looked like a giant phallic creamsicle. But it was also kind of hot. The fake cock filled Frank's mouth like a real cock would. Like Billy's cock would if Frank ever let him do it. Which would never happen. Which Billy didn't _want_ to happen, not really. He was just bored, drunk, and horny. It was all the alcohol's fault that he was getting hard now. Billy tried to think of something that would squash his libido flat. But he couldn't think of anything other than ways to improve the scene in front of him, starting with removing Frank's clothes.

Ignoring his hard-on, Billy said, "Not so easy, is it?" Frank kept his head down, not looking at him. He added, "You know, this is a big improvement, you not being able to talk." Frank grabbed the red and purple monster off the bed and threw it at Billy. It missed by a foot, hitting the wall. "Aim's not so good today. You a little distracted?" Billy asked. This got the finger in response.

Frank's throat moved and the cock slid further inside. He was almost finished. Billy's balls tightened and his insides clenched. If he didn't cool himself down, he was going to have to get out of here and jerk off. 

Billy didn't say anything as Frank swallowed the last bit. He caught himself biting his lip and stopped. Frank paused and Billy feverishly hoped he wouldn't look up. Right now, if they made eye contact, Billy might do something extremely stupid. He breathed slowly in and out, trying to lower his heart rate.

But Frank just removed the object from his mouth in a businesslike fashion. Billy quickly settled into a sitting position where his erection wouldn't be so obvious. Now, Frank looked at him. "We're even." 

"It's a stalemate," Billy agreed.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. There was a tension in the room, an uncertainty about whether they would drop the whole issue or find a way to escalate. 

Finally, Frank said, "We need a tie-breaker."

Of course, they were going to escalate. They were both too competitive for their own good sometimes. "Like what?" Billy asked.

"Well, we could have a do-over, only use something to make it more interesting."

Billy glanced at the enormous red and purple dildo on the floor. He wasn't sure either of them could handle that thing. "With _what_?" Frank gave him a look and Billy knew he didn't mean any of the dildos. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Frank said it casually like he was suggesting they go get more beer. (If this night kept going like this, Billy was going to need more.)

Billy's lips twitched. "So are we doing full blow job here or what?"

Frank shook his head, his face reddening slightly. A sign that he was reacting more to this than he let on. "It'll be like before. Whoever gets the whole thing in wins."

Billy should say no. He should accept the draw and joke about Frank wanting an excuse to suck him off and forget the whole thing. But he'd never backed down from a challenge in his life. (He ignored the rush of excitement blooming inside him again.) "Okay," he said. "And since this is _your_ idea, you go first."

Frank nodded. "That's fair." (Was it Billy’s whiskey-fueled imagination or did Frank look like he was looking forward to it?)

"Gimme a sec," Billy said and turned his back. He was already hard but that hadn't been part of the game until now. If Frank had noticed (he probably had, just like Billy had immediately noticed his), he'd chosen to ignore it. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do to take a minute and prepare instead of immediately whipping it out.

Billy licked his lips as he unzipped his fly. This was just like any other dare. It wasn't any weirder than stripping and running naked across a parking lot. Blowing out a breath, he turned around, half expecting Frank to manufacture some excuse to get out of this now that his cock was out. (If that happened, he would be _so_ fucking pissed he'd never share his booze with Frank ever again.)

But Frank scooted toward him across the floor in a way he thought was oddly cute. (The alcohol was really doing strange things to him tonight.) Billy leaned back a bit, supporting himself on his arms, and stretched out his legs. Frank's hands rested on his thighs, warm through the fabric of his pants.

The moment Frank's mouth touched his cock, a jolt went through him. Billy looked at the ceiling, at the wall, at the cardboard box on the floor, but his vision always fell toward Frank like it was pulled by gravity. Frank did not look at him. Billy felt his mouth, the lips, the tongue, the inside of the cheeks, warm and wet and soft. He dug his fingers into the floor, his entire body tense. Frank wasn't trying to tease, Billy was sure, but his tongue still slid along the bottom of the shaft, burning oversensitive nerves. Billy clamped his jaw shut to keep from begging Frank to get him off. He kind of wanted to mess with Frank, make him gag a little, partly just because he could and partly to get control back over himself and the situation. But that wouldn't be fair. And Billy did want to see if Frank could do this. He should be hoping for failure because that would mean he could get out of taking a turn. But Frank being able to take his cock was secretly very pleasing. And he might as well admit in the privacy of his own thoughts, he wanted to see what it was like to take Frank's.

So Billy stayed still, enjoying his friend's progress keenly. The image of Frank Castle lying in his lap, cock in mouth, was going to be burned into his memory. (Was he going to start fantasizing about Frank when he was sober?) 

And then Frank was closing the distance. Billy turned his face away, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Coming in Frank's mouth would be embarrassing. He held it together and Frank released him. When Billy looked down again, Frank had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

"Your turn," he said. 

Billy was extremely horny and irritated that Frank didn't seem to be. Sure, Frank had an erection going, but he didn't seem to care that he did. Billy reminded himself that arousal was beside the point. They weren't having sex. The game wasn't about getting each other off. And he'd be damned if he was going to lose now.

"You gotta give me something to work with," he said.

"Got it right here." Frank did just open his fly and whip it out. Billy had the urge to look away. Instead, he made a show of checking out Frank's dick with his very best _Is this all?_ attitude.

(He had been right: Frank did have a nice dick. His future drunken imaginings about fucking Frank were going to be much more detailed. He wasn't sure that was a good thing.)

It wasn't that Billy _wanted_ to do this, he reminded himself. He just wanted to get it done. So he got down into Frank's lap, feeling ridiculous. This wouldn't be much different from swallowing the dildo: just open mouth, slide it in, try not to gag, slide it back out. And mechanically speaking, that was true. But even before he got the tip in, the smell of Frank hit him. He wasn't sticking a piece of silicone down his throat just to see if he could do it. This was his best friend's actual cock and he was a hair's breadth away from actually sucking it.

Shoving the weirdness aside, Billy put it in his mouth as casually as possible. Frank wasn't as big as the dildo -- any guy who was would be making a living as a porn star -- and was much easier to take, a little too easy to take. Frank's dick was hot and alive in a way that made Billy want to play with it, feel it react to being teased with his lips and tongue.

He certainly wasn't doing _that_. Maintaining control, Billy inched forward until his nose touched Frank's pelvis, brushing curls of hair that tickled a bit, then drew back until his mouth was empty. A line of saliva stretched, glistening, from his bottom lip to the tip and he quickly broke it and wiped his mouth.

Billy cleared his throat. "Stalemate again."

For a second, he and Frank looked at each other. They could just stop. Put the box away, finish the booze, and lie around in a drunken stupor until morning. But now they were both hard and unsatisfied. And even if they hadn't been, neither of them knew when to quit. Billy wasn't sure what they were competing for anymore if he ever had been, but he wasn't going to stop until he beat Frank. He knew Frank felt the same. So there would be a Round Three. All they needed was to decide what it would be.

There was one thing Billy could think of. He eyed the orange dildo. It wasn't the largest but was still plenty big and had been uncomfortable in his throat. He didn't want to know how much it would hurt going in his ass. And he didn't want to be the one to suggest it.

But he didn't need to say anything. Frank glanced at the dildo, then shook his head. "You've got a dirty mind, Bill."

"If we're both thinking the same thing, doesn't that mean we both have dirty minds?"

"I got a better idea. Why don't we just cut to the chase?"

"Meaning?"

"Forget these things." Frank gestured to the box. "Let's do this man to man, so to speak."

It wouldn't take much to get either of them good to go. Billy smiled in spite of the sudden nerves in his stomach. "If you want me to fuck you, Frankie, you just need to ask."

"I'm just trying to be fair here. To be honest, I had an advantage earlier."

"And what's that?"

"I'm pretty sure you've never sucked a guy off before, right?"

"Uh, I have not. No."

"Well, I have."

For a second, Billy went completely still. His first question was, " _What?_ ," immediately followed by, " _Who?_ "

"Nobody you know."

"When the hell did you do this?"

"High school."

Billy tried to imagine Frank blowing somebody (other than himself). The picture just wasn't forming. " _Why?_ "

Frank shrugged. "It was just a thing that happened."

That answer was _not_ good enough. "So you just decided one day to try sucking cock? What, was it raining outside? Nothing good on TV?"

Shaking his head, Frank said, "We were just, you know, messing around. It wasn't anything."

A wave of jealousy crashed over Billy. Not just because some other guy had been with Frank but because he never had the luxury of "messing around" when he was young. When other kids did petty stupid shit -- shoplift cheap crap, smoke a joint, get into a fistfight -- people shook their heads and said they were dumb teenagers just messing around. But when _he_ did those same things, he got sent to juvie. (Of course, Billy had never let any other guys near him. He couldn't afford to, growing up like he did and looking like he did. Hell, he was fucking _eleven_ when he got his shoulder busted up fighting a grown man off.) Anger followed on the jealousy. So Frank had messed around with guys before like he was messing around with Billy now. _It wasn't anything_. Well, Billy was going to _make_ it something. 

"You're on," Billy said. "Flip for who pitches first?"

Frank dug a quarter out of his desk drawer. Billy called heads. It came up tails. He wasn't even bothered. Some other guy had gotten Frank's dick. Why shouldn't he?

The whiskey was more than half gone. He grabbed the bottle and took a long pull, feeling the burn down his throat. He didn't know if there was any beer left or not but this would do. When he was done, Frank took it and drank deep. Billy's head swam. There was no reason to be coy, so he just dropped his pants and rolled over on his stomach. 

Frank snorted. "You can't wait, can you?"

Billy wriggled his ass. "You know you can't resist." That made Frank laugh harder. A thud made Billy sit up and turn. He saw Frank lying on the floor shaking and red-faced. "Don't tell me you're too fucking drunk to do this," Billy snapped.

Frank was having full-blown hysterics now. Billy glared at him, waiting. When he finally stopped, he waved a hand and said, "All right. Hold your god damn horses." 

"I will sit on you and stick it in myself."

"Oh, _I'll_ stick it in," Frank said. "You're gonna have a hard time walking tomorrow."

"Big talk from someone who can't even sit up."

"Be careful what you ask for, Bill."

Frank pulled himself up onto the desk chair and rooted around in a drawer for a few seconds. Billy was about to ask what the hell he was doing when he took out a bottle of lube. That was probably a good idea if you could call any of the ideas they'd had tonight good. He supposed if you were determined to run at a wall full speed headfirst, you should at least put on a helmet.

Billy watched, mesmerized and not trying to hide it, while Frank stroked himself, getting stiff and slick. Anticipation prickled his skin. When Frank approached, he lay down on his belly, muttering, "Finally."

He spoke too soon. After several awkward thrusts that sort of slid off Billy, Frank swore.

Billy asked, "What's the problem?"

"The problem is you're a literal fucking tight-ass."

"Just _do_ it."

"My dick's not a power drill. You gotta loosen up."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"I can't keep it up all night. Tick tock."

"You going soft on me _already_ , Frankie?"

Frank jabbed his dick at Billy. He was definitely not going limp yet. "If you don't loosen up soon, you're gonna lose by default."

 _This_ was embarrassing. Billy breathed deep, trying to will himself to relax. Closing his eyes, he thought of the training he'd gotten on how to fall asleep when you were tense from a doctor on base. Imagine yourself lying in a warm, dark place. Release the tension in your body starting at the top of your head and going down. Your scalp, face, shoulders, arms, hands, chest, back, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, feet. The doc had never specified relaxing your ass but Billy assumed that was included. When he got to his toes, he drew in and released several long breaths. "Try it now," he said.

He heard Frank opening the lube again and applying more. Felt slick hands spreading him open. Then there was a surprisingly sharp pain and Billy stifled a grunt. Pain was only temporary. He never let it keep him from doing whatever he wanted. You couldn't stop punching just because your hand hurt.

But Frank did stop. Billy cleared his throat. "Do it."

Still, there was no further movement. He could sense Frank's hesitation, imagined him frowning as whatever part of his brain was still rational warned him that this was a bad idea. That was the thing about Frank. Even when you thought he had to be completely out of control, he never really was. He _chose_ to do crazy shit. They both did.

Billy pushed backward hard enough to knock Frank off balance. He sprawled forward, his dick slipping out, his weight on Billy's back. "Don't leave me hanging, you bastard."

Frank got up off of him, muttering. Then his cock was pushing into Billy again. And he didn't stop. Billy shuddered, forcing himself to breathe slow and deep. He said he could handle this and he would. Really, he'd felt worse pain. This was like doing a challenging workout.

Frank patted the back of his head. "Attaboy, Bill."

Billy let out a string of curses. Frank laughed.

Sweat trickled down Billy's forehead, his underarms, his back, his thighs. Frank inched along, opening him further and further. He started to relax enough to feel the presence of cock as more than just pain, could feel the heat and weight of it. It felt _good_ despite hurting. Or maybe because it did.

Frank paused, his hips and balls flush against Billy.

"Are you all the way in?" Billy asked. He felt like he should make sure. 

"Yeah."

Frank started pulling out. Billy reached and touched one of Frank's hands that had settled on his side. "You wanna go to all that effort and just stop?" he asked. It was like going out to hit a target and finding nobody there, getting all worked up for nothing.

"You enjoying me laying some pipe in you?" Frank said, amused.

"If you start a job, you gotta finish it." Billy squeezed his muscles experimentally and was rewarded with a grunt. He fantasized about being able to grip so hard Frank couldn't pull out. Being able to hold him there until Billy had his fill. He added, "You sound like you're enjoying it, Frankie boy."

"Any port in a storm," Frank replied.

Billy yanked Frank's hand forward, turning his head, and bit it. Frank yelped, then forced Billy face-first into the floor. "I'm gonna need a rabies shot," he muttered.

"You want it, you gotta take it," Billy said.

"All right." Frank had the glint of answering a challenge in his voice. "If you think you can handle it."

"We'll see if _you_ can handle it," Billy shot back.

Frank snorted, then started fucking him. 

It _hurt_. But right now Billy wanted it more than almost anything. "Don't go easy on me. You know I wouldn't insult you like that," he said, panting.

Frank gripped his ass, tilting it to get a deeper thrust. Billy asked, "You ever do _this_ before? You ever fuck one of your old teammates from all those god damn sports you played in high school? Baseball and football and fucking synchronized swimming?"

"You jealous, Billy?"

"So did he suck your dick? Or did he not wanna give back?"

"You want a play-by-play of every time I've had sex?"

"So he didn't."

"Oh, he did."

"Was he good?" _Was he your best friend at the time?_

"He wasn't _bad_."

"Were _you_ good?"

Frank shifted, lying forward and dropping his weight on Billy. It was crushing but it felt good. "Am I good right now?" Frank's voice was right in his ear, words accompanied by hot breath.

Billy laughed wildly. "You're not bad."

"I mean, I don't wanna disappoint you." A hand knotted in Billy's hair and yanked his head to the side so hard his eyes watered. Frank pulled the collar of Billy's shirt down and bit his shoulder, teeth sinking into the flesh right on his scar. Billy had a vision of it being ripped open again, blood spurting. It sent a shiver through him.

"That's the spirit." This got him a deep thrust that Frank held and a hard slap on his upper arm. "Keep it up."

"You are something else," Frank said. There was a note of almost pride in the words.

"Attaboy, Frank." Billy felt Frank's belly trembling with laughter and shuddered in response like their bodies had been dialed to the same frequency. He spasmed around Frank's dick. "Break's over," he said.

"Man, all I do is work, work, work," Frank grumbled.

" _Now_."

Another sharp tug on Billy's hair came, this time in the opposite direction. "I guess if I gotta." Frank gave an exaggerated sigh. Before Billy could say anything else, he resumed thrusting vigorously. Their shirts rode up with the motion until most of their chests were exposed and their sweat-streaked skin slid together.

It hurt less. Billy had relaxed a lot but he had never done this before and Frank was not small. But that was okay. This wasn't something he went around openly admitting to people (including his sober self), but Billy had a little taste for pain. Even when he got hurt outside of bed, there was a bit of a thrill to it. A rush of sensation reminding him he was alive, that he could be broken and put himself back together again. He'd never had sex with anyone who could dish pain out like Frank could. Billy loved watching it. And he wanted to see what Frank would do to him. 

Maybe that was fucked up. But every man had a thing. Maybe it was logical that he enjoyed being hurt. His entire life had revolved around violence, an endless cycle of being hit and hitting and being hit again. It was his birthright and his talent, his profession, his power. He couldn't imagine life without it. Or maybe his urges just were what they were and didn't mean anything in particular. How the hell was he supposed to know?

Frank did _not_ disappoint. Billy was familiar with many flavors of hurt. He'd been struck with fists and a belt and a metal pipe, been kicked with heavy boots, been burned playing with fire (literally) and cut with a switchblade. Had his arm broken, had his shoulder torn apart. But this, being fucked raw, was new. There were layers to it: the pain of being penetrated, with undertones of pleasure; the pain of being crushed against the hard floor, which scraped his nipples roughly; the pain of being squeezed and gripped by hands, hard enough to bruise. 

Billy had stepped right off the world. Nothing mattered, nothing existed, except the sensation cascading over him, the weight and motion of Frank's body on and in his, setting his nerves on fire. There was no feeling good and no feeling bad, just _feeling_.

Arms wrapped around Billy's chest. One hand dragged up to his neck, with just enough nail to prickle, and closed around his throat. Frank squeezed. It wasn't enough to cut off his air -- Billy moaned softly -- but it was _enough_. Billy bucked against Frank. The two of them were sticks being rubbed together to make a spark and he needed to keep going until the fire burst from them.

Billy bit his own arm to keep from crying out. The line between pain and pleasure vanished completely, blotted out by a wave of pure feeling, pure power, pure energy that drowned his every thought and washed them all away. But he was left, still alive, still breathing, under the water.

He was suddenly aware that Frank was orgasming inside him, a strange but not unpleasant sensation. His own come was warm and sticky on his stomach.

When they were done, Frank rolled off and lay on his side, winded. Billy was pleased with having worn him out. Their skin still touched, hot and sweaty, Frank's chest against Billy's flank. Sprawled face down on the floor, Billy felt raw but satisfied. Tomorrow, he was going to be sore as hell.

Billy leaned over and brushed his forehead against Frank's. Opened his mouth and almost kissed his best friend. But that wasn't part of the game. Instead, Billy said, "I win."

Frank laughed softly. "Yeah. You got this one, Bill."


End file.
